BOOKS! about cliare wait what?
by Amelie-the-pony
Summary: this has 2 of my fav moments in MV with scince oliver found a little novel of funny moments in cliares life


**I do not own anything! Sadly **

**i keep reading these kind of storys and siad to myself ill try to do one! **

**theses are a few of my fav moments.**

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><p><strong>While claire was walking to Amelie to see how she was with the dreag bite everyone in the room stares a cliare "what?" they past me a book called BITE CLUB BY Rachel Caine 'ódd' she thourght "its about your life when went to that fight"oliver said like it was a bad thing.<strong>

"**ok so… you want me to read it?" **

"**indeed" cliare sat down on a leather chiare and began to read….**

"Oh, this doesn't sound like a good idea," Claire said, looking down at the paper that had been shoved into her hand by a passing student. She paused in the shade of the Science Building porch to read it. Only idiots stood around in full sun at Texas Prairie University in the middle of the afternoon – well, idiots and football players – and angled herself into a corner so she wouldn't get buffeted by the streams of people pouring out after the end of class. There were a few hardy salmons trying to swim upstream, but she didn't think they'd make it.

"**yummy salmons" myrnin said **

People all around her were carrying the same goldenrod sheet of paper she had – stuffed into pockets, crammed into books, held in hands.

She was one of the last ones to get pamphleted, she guessed. She was just a little surprised anybody had bothered at all, given the fact that she, Claire Danvers, was small for her age, looked younger than her mid-seventeen-going-hard-on-eighteen years, and tended to blend into the crowd at the best of times. Even though her ultra-fashion-conscious housemate Eve – with all the best possible intentions – had made her sit down in the bathroom and get her brown hair all highlighted so it glowed red in the sun. Still. She just wasn't – noticeable.

She'd learned it the hard way: early admission to college sucked.

"**yup it did" cliare smiled**

Someone stopped next to her in the relative quiet of the shade. It was a tall, good-looking boy, and he dropped his backpack on the tiled floor with a thump as he looked over the same flyer she held. "Huh," he said, and glanced over at her. "You going?"

Once she got over the dazzle of his good looks

"**cliare? Who is that ill kick him if he flirted with you" shane look murderess **

"**shane it ok"cliare always relaxed him**

(truthfully, it didn't take that long, her boyfriend was just as cute), she checked his wrist. He was a Morganville native; he was wearing a bracelet around one wrist, made out of copper and leather, with an ornate-looking symbol engraved on the central plate. It meant he was vampire property – property of Ming Cho, who was one of those vampires that Claire had never directly run into. She liked it that way. Really, her circle of vampire acquaintances was way, way too large as it was.

"Hey," he said again, and rattled the paper in front of her face. "Anybody in there? You going?"

"**wow for the first time of to dream land" Eve mocked **

Claire looked down at the paper again. It had a bunch of pictures and symbols on it, no words. A musical note, which meant a rave was on the menu. Some pictures of party favors, which meant that mostly illegal stuff was going to be floating around. The address was coded in the form of a riddle, which she solved easily enough; it was an address on South Rackham, among all those decaying warehouses that used to be thriving businesses. The time was pretty obvious: midnight. That was what the graphic of the witch was for – the witching hour. The date was tonight.

"Not interested," she said, and handed him her copy. "Not my thing."

"Too bad. It's going to be out there."

"That's why."

He laughed. "You a training wheels partier?"

"I'm not much of a partier at all," Claire said, and couldn't help but smile; he had a really nice laugh, one that made you want to laugh with it. He wasn't laughing at her, at least. That was different. "Hi, by the way. I'm Claire."

"Alex," he said. "You coming from Chem?"

"No, Computational Physics."

"Oh," he said, and blinked. "And I have no idea what that is. Right, carry on, Einstein. Nice to meet you."

"**dumbie" myrnin scoffed**

"**that the start of BITE CLUB, so im guessing its just a few beginnings and the really kool bits in the series" Cliare was a little sad then, "right the next one is last breath" **

Claire nodded. "You got the overdue notice, didn't you? It's this, or they come and collect. You don't want that."

"Well, you don't have to be here," he pointed out—not for the first time today. "Don't you have classes?"

"Not today," she said. "I had an oh-my-God a.m. lab, but now I'm all done."

"Okay, then, you don't have to do this because you're tax-exempt."

By tax-exempt, he meant that she didn't have to pay . . . in blood.

"**and again yummy" now cliare is annoyed at myrnin**

Taxes in Morganville were collected three ways: the polite way, via the collection center downtown, or the not-so-polite way when the Bloodmobile showed up like a sleek black shark at your front door, with Men in Black–style "technicians" to ensure you did your civic duty.

The third way was by force, in the dark, when you ventured out un-Protected and got bitten.

Vampires. A total pain in the neck . . . literally.

"**that true" eve smiled at micheal**

Shane was entirely right: Claire had a written, legal document that said she was free from the responsibility of donations. The popular wisdom—and it wasn't wrong—was that she'd already given enough blood to Morganville.

Of course, so had Shane . . . but he hadn't always been on the vampires' side, at the time.

"I know I don't have to do it," she said. "I want to. I'll go with."

"In case you're worried, I'm not girly-scared or anything."

"**bro you jumped and ran because of a mouse last week" shane stared micheal down**

"Hey!" She smacked at his arm. "I'm a girl. What exactly are you saying, that I'm not brave or something?"

"Eeek," Shane said. "Nothing. Right, Amazon princess, I got the point."

Claire turned in his arms and kissed him, a sweet burst of heat as their lips met. The lovely joy of that released a burst of bubbles inside her, bubbles full of happiness. God, she loved this. Loved him. It had been a rough year, and he'd . . . stumbled, was the best way she could think of it. Shane had dark streaks, and he'd struggled with them. Was still struggling.

But he'd worked so hard to make it up, not just to her, but to everyone he felt he'd let down. Michael, his (vampire) best friend. Eve, his other (nonvampire) best friend, and hers, too. Even Claire's parents had gotten genuine attention; he'd gone with her to see them, twice, with exit permission from the vampires, and he'd been earnest and steady even under her father's stern cross-examination.

He wanted to be different. She knew that.

When the kiss finally ended, Shane had a drugged, vague look in his eyes, and he seemed to have trouble letting go of her. "You know," he said, moving her hair back from her cheek with one big, warm hand, "we could just blow this off and go home instead of letting them suck our blood. Try it tomorrow."

"Bloodmobile," she reminded him. "People holding you down. You really want that?"

"**dun dun duuuuun" eve make a dramatic sound **

He shuddered. "Hell no. Okay, right, after you." They were standing on the sidewalk of Morganville's blood bank, with its big cheerful blood-drop character sign and scrupulously clean public entrance. Claire pecked him lightly on the cheek, escaped before he could pull her close again, and pushed the door open.

Inside, the place looked like they'd given it a makeover—more cheerfully lit than the last time she'd been in, and the new furniture looked comfortable and homey. They'd even installed a fish tank full of brightly colored tropicals flitting around living coral. Nice. Clearly, the vampires were trying to put their best efforts to reassure the human community, for a change.

The lady sitting behind the counter looked up and smiled. She was human, and sort of motherly, and she pulled Claire's records and raised her thin, graying eyebrows. "Oh," she said. "You know, you're entirely paid up for the year. There's no need—"

"It's voluntary," Claire said. "Is that okay?"

"**our little hero" myrnin said with a sarcastic sigh**

"Voluntary?" The woman repeated the word as if it was something from a foreign language. "Well, I suppose . . ." She shook her head, clearly thinking Claire was mental, and turned her smile on Shane. "And you, honey?"

"Collins," he said. "Shane Collins."

"**you had to do it like 007 didn't you?" monica said **

She pulled out his card, and up went the eyebrows, again. "You are definitely not paid up, Mr. Collins. In fact, you're sixty days behind. Again."

"**oh no!" myrnin laughed **

"I've been busy." He didn't crack a smile. Neither did she.

She stamped his card, wrote something on it, and returned it to the file, then handed them both slips of paper. "Through the door," she said. "Do you want to be in the room together, or separately?"

"Together," they both chorused, and looked at each other. Claire couldn't help a bit of a smirk, and Shane rolled his eyes. "She's kind of a coward," he said. "Faints at the sight of blood."

"Oh, please," Claire sighed. "That does describe one of us, though."

**Every one laughed in the room, while shane blushed**

The receptionist, for all her motherly looks, clearly wasn't sympathetic. "Fine," she said briskly. "Second door on the right, there are two chairs in there. I'll get an attendant for you."

"Yeah, about that . . . could you get us a human?" Shane asked. "It creeps me out when a guy's draining my blood and I hear his stomach rumble."

Claire punched him in the arm this time, an unmistakable shut up, and gave the receptionist a sunny smile as she dragged him toward the door she'd indicated. "Really," she said to him, "would it be that hard just to not say anything?"

"Kinda," he shrugged, and held the door open for her. "Ladies first."

"I'm really starting to think you are a scaredy-cat."

"No, I'm just flawlessly polite." He gave her a sideways glance, and said, with a curious seriousness, "I'd go first in any fight, for you."

"**yer right"eve giggled**

Shane had always been someone who best expressed love by being protective, but now it was deliberate, a way for him to make up for how far he'd let his anger and aggression get the best of him. Even at his worst he hadn't hurt her, but he'd come close, frighteningly close, and that lingered between them like a shadow.

"Shane," she said, and paused to look him full in the face. "If it comes to that, I'd fight beside you. Not behind you."

He smiled a little, and nodded as they started moving again. "I'd still jump on the first bullet. Hope you're okay with that."

She shouldn't have been, really, but the thought, and the emotion behind it, gave her another little flush of warmth as she walked down the carpeted hallway and into the second room on the right. Like the rest of the human side of the collection center, the space felt warm and comfortable; the reclining chairs were leather, or some vinyl approximation. The speakers overhead were playing something acoustic and soft, and Claire relaxed in the chair as Shane wriggled around in his.

He went very still as the door opened, and their attendant stepped inside.

"No way," Claire said. First, their attendant was a vampire.

"**who?"monica purred**

"**your aunt"shane said with a smirk cliare just sighed and carried on**

Second, it was Oliver. Oh, he was wearing a white lab coat and carrying a clipboard and looked vaguely official, but it was Oliver. "What exactly is the second-in-command of vampire affairs doing drawing blood?"

"Yeah, and aren't you needed pulling espresso at the coffee shop?" Shane added, with a totally unnecessary edge of snark. Oliver was often found behind the counter at the coffee shop, but he wasn't needed there. He just liked doing it, and Shane knew that. When you were as (presumably) rich and (absolutely) powerful a vampire as Oliver, you could do whatever you damn well wanted.

"**I am very rich" oliver drawled**

"**yer right coffee man" eve grunted**

"There's been flu going around," Oliver said, ignoring Shane's tone as he took out the blood-draw supplies and laid them out on trays. "I understand they're short-staffed today. Occasionally, I do pitch in."

Somehow, that didn't quite feel like the whole story, even if it was true. Claire eyed him mistrustfully as he scooted a rolling stool up beside her and tied the tourniquet in place on her upper arm, then handed her a red rubber ball to squeeze as he prepared the needle. "I assume you're going first," he said, "given Shane's usual attitude." That was delivered with every bit as dry an edge as Shane's sarcasm, and Shane opened his mouth, then subsided, lips thinning into a stubborn line. Good, she thought. He was trying, at least.

"Sure," she said. She managed not to wince as his cold fingers palpated her arm, feeling for veins, and focused on his face. Oliver always seemed to be older than many of the other vamps, though she couldn't quite pin down why: his hair, maybe, which was threaded with gray streaks and tied back in a hippie-style ponytail just now. There weren't many lines on his face, really, but she always just snapshotted him as middle–aged, and when she really stared, she couldn't say why he impressed her that way.

Mostly he just seemed more cynical than the others.

He was wearing a black tee under a gray pull-on sweater today, and blue jeans, very relaxed; it wasn't too different from what Shane was wearing, actually, except that Shane managed to make his look edgy and fashionable.

The needle slid in with a short, hot burst, and then the pain subsided to a thin ache as Oliver taped it down and attached the tubing. He released the tourniquet and clamps, and Claire watched the dark red line of blood race down the plastic and out of sight, into a collection bag below. "Good," he said. "You have excellent flow."

"**oliver! Did you say that to sweet little cliare?"as always myrnin protected cliare **

"I'm—not sure how I feel about that, actually."

He shrugged. "It's got fine color and pressure, and the scent is quite crisp. Very nice."

"**im going to kill him soon cliare plz read something nicer" myrnin gritted his teeth showing some fangs**

Claire felt even less good once he'd said that; he described it like a wine enthusiast talking about his favorite vintage. In fact, she felt just faintly sick, and rested her head against the soft cushions while she stared at a cheerful poster tacked up on the back of the door.

"**it was a cute cat hanging on a tree saying hang in there" cliare spoke like it was just yesterday**

Oliver moved on from her to Shane, and once she'd taken a couple of deep, calming breaths, she stopped studying the kitten picture and looked over at her boyfriend. He was tense, but trying not to seem it; she could read that in the slightly pale, set face and the way his shoulders had tightened, emphasizing the muscles under the sweater. He rolled up his sleeve without a word, and Oliver—likewise silent—put the tourniquet in place and handed him another ball to squeeze. Unlike Claire, who was barely able to dent the thing, Shane almost flattened it when he pressed. His veins were visible to her even across the room, and Oliver barely skimmed fingertips over them, not meeting Shane's eyes at all, then slipped the needle in so quickly and smoothly that Claire almost missed it. "Two pints," he told Shane. "You'll still be behind on your schedule, but I suppose we shouldn't drain you much more at once."

"You sound disappointed." Shane's voice came out faint and thready, and he put his head back against the cushions as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn, I hate this. I really do."

"I know," Oliver said. "Your blood reeks of it."

"If you keep that up, I'm going to punch you." Shane said it softly, but he meant it. There was a muscle tight as steel cable in his jaw, and his hand pumped the rubber ball in convulsive squeezes. Oliver released the tourniquet and clamps, and Shane's blood moved down the tube.

"Can I specify a user for my donation?" Claire asked. That drew Oliver's attention, and even Shane cracked an eyelid to glance at her. "Since mine's voluntary anyway."

"Yes, I suppose," Oliver said, and took out a black marker. "Name?"

"The hospital," she said. "For emergencies."

**"****aww****" ****everyone ****did ****that ****as ****if ****she ****was ****a ****5 ****year ****old****  
><strong>

He gave her a long, measured stare, and then shrugged and put a simple cross symbol on the bag—already a quarter full—before returning it to the holder beside her chair.

"**ok ok, stop!" cliare almost screamed at them**

"**but you looked so cute, when you read that" cliare stared at shane and throw the book at him.**

"**ow that was my nose!" everyone laughed but shane who looked like he was about to go to the corner of the room.**

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><p><strong>sooo...did a get a gold star? <strong>

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**(^-^)**

** -this is a bunny btw if you read it ok but if you fav without reviewing bunny will attack...aww it so cute**


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